


Fly Away (With My Broken Wings)

by ozsia



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Family Feels, Mafia Boss Sawada Tsunayoshi, Mafia problems, Past Child Molestation, Past Rape/Non-con, Physical Therapy, Repressed Memories, Serious Injuries, Tenth Gen Guardians Are Past The Point Of Protective
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:59:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10131416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozsia/pseuds/ozsia
Summary: When given a choice between jumping and hurting his friends, its an easy choice for Tsuna. He expects to die. He falls knowing it will kill him.What does occur is something completely unexpected.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Paragraphs from the Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/901781) by [Bleach_ed_Na_tsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleach_ed_Na_tsu/pseuds/Bleach_ed_Na_tsu). 



> I finished rewriting this and cross-posted it here from FF.Net on no sleep. It is now 0630. Please go easy on me.

Tsuna’s feet toed the edge of his high school’s roof, his body tilting precariously over its deadly height as his heart beat in his ears in a deafening rush of blood. Bile pressed against his tightened throat as he stubbornly kept it down, swallowing it back with some difficulty as acid burned his mouth. He was scared. Terrified. Under no illusion that this fall would kill him, it led to an outbreak of sweat and sickness settling into his knotted stomach.

His mind whirled from memories and chaotic thoughts. He could still feel the horror at the sight of seeing Takeshi on the other side of the roof guard, his arm in plaster and that hideous smile on his face. Tsuna’s mistakes, baseball, a sea of peers who only really cared about him for what Takeshi could do, his image, and not who he _was. That_ what was what drove a compassionate boy with a wealth of potential to think breathing was optional.

It had been years since then. Things had changed. _They_ had changed. But not enough, Tsuna was still Tsuna. Still weak. Still not enough to do anything about what had happened minutes ago. To stop his high school from being invaded by a mafia famiglia whose members he didn’t recognise. They - men in expensive suits with polished weapons - came flooding in through the entrance. The receptionist would be find dead. 

(But then she was one number among many.)

Tsuna had run. Fled to the highest point of the school after forcing his way out of his classroom when the attack had reached him. Tsuna barely remembered how they had torn the door open, entered and immediately killed their teacher. She had been a sarcastic woman with a gentle side that endeared her quickly. Fearless in acknowledging to others that one of her eyes was fake from a care accident that had taken it. 

She had also been engaged and two months pregnant. 

Tsuna finds, as he stares at her crumpled body with the screams of his classmates echoing in his ears and their demands that he can’t recall her name. He had known her name, had said it just this morning with a “good morning”. But with the guns pointing in his direction (not an unusual occurrence) and their aggressive demands of “who is the Decimo?!” he focuses quickly. Snaps back into reality like ice water had just been thrown over him on a hot summer day. 

He knows than that he’s got to _go._ He couldn’t possibly defend himself in a room full of civilians never mind fight back. Everyone is in hysterics. People are crying and his mindset is overwrought with a numb sort of panic. Because this was _wrong._ He had been involved with the mafia for three years - since he was thirteen and couldn’t stop from falling over his own feet - and he was used to battles. Was used to being attack and being hurt. 

But never in front of people who just knew _Tsuna._ Never in a way that endangered bystanders and - no. Just _no._ There was nothing he could do. Takeshi had been taken out of class to practice for a tournament. Not around. Couldn’t help. Was too far away. Hayato had gone to meet his supplier for his less than legal source of “fireworks” as he had been running dangerously low. Oni-san had Gym class and Enma was sick with fever, his Guardians also absent to take care of him. 

Hibari took to leaving to patrol at this time of the day and Mukuro and Chrome…well, they were the reason for the patrolling. A few weeks ago Mukuro had been attacked. Tsuna had contacted the Ninth about it and the man said he would look into it but they still hadn’t heard back. With the approach of his proper inheritance, they probably should have taken that as the warning it was. 

Instead, Tsuna is frantic and alone. If only they were just trying to kill him. 

But no. He makes his way to the roof. Can’t be slow, can’t stop to save a schoolmate of his getting shot down as he pleads _no, please. I don’t know. I don’t know. Please, my mum will be waiting for me. My little brother is sick. I can’t die here. I can’t -_ a bullet to the head stops his words. Stops _everything._ Blood splatters at the behind wall, painting a board of art red and he hits the ground with a thumb ganging against the desk behind him on the way down. 

Tsuna can’t stop. Must leave. Has to to reach -

They notice him as he rushes to the end door. He hears their yells of _stop_ and the sound of their feet as they start to give chase. A bullet clips his shoulder - its _nothing._ He’s had worse injuries from spars. Can’t feel it anyway - but he manages to make it to the stairs. Luckily his classroom was right next to it. He jumps with the strength Reborn has pounded into him four at a time, even with knees so weak he feels like he could fall over. 

He managed to reach the roof door. His hand thrusts itself into his uniform’s pocket for the key. A key he shouldn’t have but which Hibari had squirrelled away to him when the carnivore found out that Tsuna’s lap made for an - apparently - comfortable pillow when Hibari napped. He jammed it in the door, felt nauseous when he fumbled it before he got the damned thing to turn. 

And suddenly he was out on the roof with the wind breathing against his clammy skin and a door between him and them. It won’t do much but he locks it again, hoping that it will slow them down. He can still hear them. Still picks up their voices and the bullets they’re still shooting. 

Tsuna takes a second. Allows the air to brush against him. To run through his hair. He tries timing his breathing with it, knows as his vision greys that if he’s not careful he’s going to knock himself out. Can’t afford that. Not with those men outside. 

_Breathe in…_

 

_…breathe out…_

_Breathe in…._

_…breathe out…_

His heart didn’t calm. It still thumbed against his chest plate like it was screaming to Tsuna that he was _still alive._ He shudders. Remembers. They’re not here to kill him. You hire an assassin for that. Do it out of sight. An attack like this is…its unprecedented. This was a statement. A kidnapping probably; maybe they want information and knowing he’s young assume he would be an easy target. Or perhaps they simply want to publicly execute him. Humiliate the Vongola that way. Weaken them.

Tsuna couldn’t allow that. 

Information or humiliation.

Answer “A” or answer “B”. 

There could even be an answer “C”.

Tsuna didn’t care. 

He makes it to the fencing and climbs it easily even while trembling. His stomach flips, feeling hot and hollow while his Intuition cries out for him but he already knows what its trying to tell him as he reaches behind him to allow his fingers to cling to the metal. His mind pretends its the hand of a friend as he pushes his back firmly against it.

Tsuna had, had a hundred close calls before. A thousand near misses. This though - knowing the situation and what he has to do - rings with a finality the others’ didn’t. But than with the others he had been with his friends, and he had been _fighting._ This was different.

If this was some sick way of getting him and using him for information, he couldn’t allow himself to get caught. He was still young, still in training and still didn’t know how to handle interrogation or torture. He remembered getting teased about that from Xanxus in jest. Tsuna hadn’t been able to laugh than and didn’t find it now he wouldn’t know how to come out of that on top. 

If it was kidnapping his friends would go absolutely postal. He can imagine streets burning. The Vongola’s reputation worsening as they try to get him back. He’s their only possibly heir. They cannot afford to lose him. They’d do anything but the demands they would give to get him back. 

Or…if this was simply just to kill him…To show Vongola as weak. As old and ageing and _hopeless_ in this new generation…

Tsuna couldn’t allow any of it. 

Tsuna was going to take whatever little control he had over the situation. 

Using his free arm, he manoeuvres his headphones that had been resting faithfully around his neck to his ears. (He rarely takes them off, he’s not _that_ careless. Knows that they are a requirement to his day today life now. He even had a highly queer doctor’s note to allow them for school). 

Tapping the left side, the automatic voice responds. **“Yes, Bossu?’**

He tries to clear his throat. He can barely feel it. His shoulder is starting to burn. ‘Phone Function, please, Lady.’ He asks and at the beep, says the name, ‘Falcone.’ Spanner had improved them some time ago to add more functions like commutation capabilities like calls and texting (he had, had to learn Morse Code for that though). His contacts were under aliases to double as a passcode to enable it to dial. 

(Spanner…Spanner was brilliant. Tsuna sometimes wonders how far he and his friends would have come if not for Shoichi and Spanner)

  **“Yes, Bossu.”** She answers him, clear and calm and intelligent. He had been seen arguing with her on more than one occasion since Spanner had made her into an AI. **“Dialling Falcone, are you able to hold?”**

She asks because she’s picked up Tsuna’s distress. 

Theres a banging on the roof door and he’s in a disaster of his own making with nothing to do but go _down._

‘No.’ Tsuna responds honestly, doesn’t have the energy to lie. ‘But, theres nothing for it, huh?’ 

**“Connecting…”** She informs. **“Are you well?”**

‘No.’ Tsuna says again, voice getting thicker. ‘This will be my last call.’ He tells her as he hears the dialling tone, knows that at that strange she wouldn't be unable to talk as she connects over. Did not want to hear her respond.

_“Juudaime?!”_ Comes Hayato’s voice shouting through the connection. He’s out of breath and Tsuna can hear from the crisp line that he’s running full pelt. There was an edge to his voice but something like relief in having Tsuna’s call.

‘Hai. Its me.’ Tsuna answers, savouring his friends voice.

‘Are you alright?!’ Hayato asks hastily. ‘The Ninth contacted me five minute ago. Theres been a tip that you’re in danger! Are you still at the school?’

That explained the worry. Why Hayato was running. Tsuna doesn’t want to focus on it. Instead remembers when Hayato, for his last birthday had asked for Tsuna to use his first name as a present which in turn made _Takeshi_ ask too. Savours the look in Hayato’s eyes the first time he manages to stutter it out and the way his friend has _glows_ every time since.

_“Juudaime!”_ Hayato’s voice exclaims. 

‘Yes, I’m still here.’ Tsuna manages. 

_“Rodger! I’ll be right there!”_ Hayato declares. Tsuna can’t help but laugh. It sounds wistful and his friend on the other end pauses. _“…Juudaime? Are - are you alright? Are you injured?!”_

The yelling behind Tsuna is getting louder. His time is running out.

‘Not…yet.’ Tuscan replies, tone low and soft. 

_“Not yet?”_ Hayato parrots in concern. _“Where about’s in the school are you? I’m reaching the gates now, Juudaime. Don’t worry.”_ Hayato had obviously remembered that they would be scattered today. That Tsuna would be alone otherwise Hayato would ask how fast he needed back - knowing Tsuna was strong - instead of just assuming he did. 

‘The roof.’ He answers simply. Wants Hayato to stop asking questions and to tell him to just _talk._ So Tsuna can cocoon himself in Hayato’s voice. So that he could drown everything else out in the presence of one of his greatest friends. The friend who loved him. Who would do absolutely _anything_ for him. Hayato would talk if Tsuna asked. 

Tsuna couldn’t ask. 

_“The roof? J-Juudaime that’s -!”_

‘Hey.’ Tsuna finally interrupts as he ignores the groan of the door hinges as it tries to withstand the abuse it is being given on the other side. ‘I…I just wanted - wanted to…to tell y-you -’ his throat restricts, sobs through the last word. He’s never been much of a crier and when he does he refuses to allow others to see. Either to stop people from calling him weak, or to stop the worry. He can imagine the look of horror on Hayato’s voice at hearing it. ‘H-how much…how much I - I love you. Each and every - every one of you.’

If any words were going to be his last, he wants those to be it. Wants to smoother his friends in his thanks. His thanks to them for all they’ve done. His affection for the bonds they’ve built through hard times and good times. From fireworks and explosions. Good and ill. For the love that had blossomed in Tsuna’s heart that gave him the ability to do this.

_“J-Juudaime?”_ Hayato demands and Tsuna knows that his friend understands.

‘Tell them.’ Tsuna whispers. ‘Tell them that. And…and know that my last thoughts are of you.’ Of Hayato, fierce and true. Takeshi steady and sharp. Hibari far but near. Mukuro and all his lies. Chrome and her inner fire. Lambo, young but so dear. Oni-san and his enthusiasm. 

‘Tell them for me.’ he pleads as the door slams open and his time runs out.

Theres a quiet gasp in his ear pieces shocked but devastated. _“JUUDAIME!”_ Hayato bellows. Tsuna closes his eyes, knows his friend has reached the school and doesn’t want to see his face. _“Don’t you dare! Don’t you_ fucking _dare -!”_

Tsuna can hear those heavy steps drawing near. He’s got to go now. 

_“TSUNA!”_

Tsuna’s breath hitches. Thats the first time Hayato had ever said his name but he still lets go of the fence.

‘Arrivederci, Fratellone.’ Tsuna whispers in the tongue Hayato had been teaching him in a joint effort with Mukuro. There are screamed protests in his ears and Tsuna’s heart _hurts_ but shuts it out. Can’t even say sorry. ‘Lady, End Call.’ He says, the end phrase.

**“Yes, Bossu.”** His headphones reply, unable to do another else as Tsuna takes one large step over the edge of nothing. Tsuna’s foot catches air and he lets gravity - a friend in recent years - take hold of him. 

Allows himself to tilt -

And Fall

**“Call Terminated.”**

* * *

Hayato _screams_ as his eyes watch hopeless as his boss falls from the roof. He’s never sounded like this, so gruntled and raw. He does a lot of shouting. He _knows_ that. But he doesn’t recognise himself as Tsuna hits the ground, a helpless, awful hep. 

His mind spins as he sprints forward. He curses Tsuna, himself - _himself._ Why did he choose today to _leave?!_ The fucking Pineapple was still recovering. The damn Prefect was barely ever around now, determined to find those responsible for the fucking Pineapple’s attack and the _attack._ That attack - why -

God fucking _DAMNIT._

Hayato’s stomach clenches as he begins to the burn of his muscles and why wasn’t he faster?! Why didn’t he feel like he was making any ground?! He needed more training - needed more stamina - needed -

Needed to blow those bastards on the roof the fuck _up._ All of them were nondescript from where Hayato was standing _so far down._ He calls for his bow - _G’s Archery -_ his Flames _spark._ All but growl against his skin as he powers his shot. His Disintegration characteristic used to feel like a curse sometimes when he was learning about them; _and_ himself. Now - _now_ as his arrow red, furious fire zooms to the ceiling shattering it. Forcing everything his Flame touches to _crack, explode._ Hayato’s feels nothing but _vindication._

Its shot lived. He knows he would have killed anyone standing on that roof - doesn’t care. Tsuna would be horrified - and his attention zooms, refocuses as he takes the last few bounds to his boss, his friend, his _brother._

He hits conceit, feels his jeans tear and the skin on his knee get cut as he skids across it Doesn’t care. He’s by Tsuna now. _Tsuna. Tsuna. Tsuna._

Oh - oh for all that was Holy -

He - 

Tsuna - 

He was so…so damaged.

Tsuna had landed on his back, his head tilted to one side. Blood had begun to pool like a halo under his chestnut hair, matting the strands with crimson. His legs were crossed oddly, like they were mid-stride, arms twisted with one at an odd angle underneath him with the other laying limply stretched on the ground like he was reaching for something. For someone. His skin is pale, ashen, with a horrible sheen.

‘Tsuna…’ Hayato breaths, feels like his heart is going to stop. He wants to touch. To help but he’s the furthest thing from a medic. From a Sun. Wouldn’t know anything more than how to bandage a few cuts from his own nasty scraps when he was out alone on the streets.This -

What can he _do_ about this?

His hand hovers uselessly, doesn’t even think he could pick Tsuna up without making things _worse._ A sob bubbles in chest, foreign as it is, when his hair stands up on end when a voice catches his inner ear and his head instantly snaps in that direction. His weapon is readied before he even has chance to recognise the form running towards them.

Yamamoto. Flushed, out of breath with a bloody blade and a face of growing horror. It hurts to look at him. 

_‘Tsuna.’_ Yamamoto chokes, voice so unlike the idiotic cheeriness that was usually giving Hayato cavities. His expression shifts, darker and darker and there is danger there. Unfiltered and murderous. ‘What - how -’

‘Alone.’ Hayato struggles around the word. Can’t feel his chest expanding as everything stills, loses colour. ‘I - just got here - was - Tsuna has - up and - he jumped.’ 

It looks like Yamamoto is about to drop his sword when his arm spasms. He jerks to the top of the destroyed building; its remains and than looks back down to Tsuna. His eyes are wide, unseeing. He teeters like a poorly built Jenga tower. 

‘Don’t just _stand_ there!’ Hayato snaps, something needs to be done and Hayato can’t feel his legs and if Yamamoto doesn’t move _he’ll_ be useless too. ‘Well?! Call those fucking Pineapples and find out what happened to Lawn Head!’ 

Yamamoto jolts as if burnt. It takes a minute and than theres a flurry of movement as he swirls around as if he can’t care the sight of Tsuna any longer. He uses his free hand to grapple his phone from his pocket of his gym clothes. 

Hayato watches as Yamamoto fumbles with the buttons until he’s scrolling through his favourite contacts and putting the phone to his ear. 

_“Moshi moshi?”_ A soft female voice answers. Not the bastard than.

Yamamoto swallows, hand tightening around the hilt of his katana. The blade shivers as the swordsman shakes. ‘Chrome,’ he tries to speak but struggles and has to stop.

_“Rain Man?”_ Chrome asks as if not recognising her fellow Guardian for who he was. 

‘Sorry. We need your help.’ Yamamoto says abruptly, like he’s forgotten how to talk. ‘The schools being attacked. It might have something to do with who ever attacked Mukuro. Tsuna’s…Tsuna’s badly -’

_“Bossu?”_ Chrome requires in panic, edged in worry. Another voice, muffled, spoke on her end but Hayato can’t make it out. _“Whats happened? Is he -’_

‘Hurt. Its serious.’ Yamamoto tells her but its jerky, uneven and Hayato knows that he just wants this conversation to end. To be _over. ‘Please._ You can make it can’t you? I’ve already had to - cut, a lot. There are a lot of mafiosi here. We need back up.’

Hayato inhales sharply. That was the first time Yamamoto had referred to their situation as anything other than a game. It had always frustrated Hayato but he had slowly understood over the years why Yamamoto did it; he was doing his job as the Rain. Now…

_“I -”_ there was a pause, a quiet conversation before a rushed: _“We’ll be right there!”_

The call ends and Yamamoto takes another shaky breath before he’s dialling Lawn Head’s number who answers on the fourth ring. 

_“Yeah?”_ Comes the distracted voice, rushed but not as loud as it commonly is. Theres no enthusiasm and a hell of a lot of shouting and screaming that they can easily hear over the line. They could even pick up Lawn Head’s solid, heavy punches as he fought whoever.

‘Senpai.’ Yamamoto greats quickly. ‘Where are you?’

Lawn Head grunts. _“Managed to get to the shoe-racks.”_

‘The front entrance?’ Yamamoto asks hurriedly. ‘Try to get to the left side of the school. Tsuna’s…’

Theres silence over the line for a second. _“Whats wrong with Sawada?”_

‘Just get here quickly.’ Yamamoto demands as he hangs up and readies his sword. Hayato tenses when rustling sudden catches his attention. He feeds his bow more Flames, forces his heavy body to shift for a better draw and waits. 

Tsuna wouldn’t appreciate their bloodlust. Tsuna always held back and they did the same because if Tsuna - the strongest out of them could fight that way than so could they - but then, Tsuna wasn’t here.

And Hayato knew, however much some of the other Guardian’s grated on him, that they would do absolutely anything for him. 

Anything. 

‘I’ve got your back.’ Hayato states. He’s a long range fighter, he doesn’t need to be able to move anything but his arms. He’s able to stay by Tsuna, so he will. Has to. Cant leave Tsuna alone.

Yamamoto nods though its hard to tell with nothing but the back of his head visible. When the group of mafiosi come onto their path, the swordsman darts forward. ‘I’ve got your front.’ He returns as he rushes at the closet man.

‘Good.’ Hayato whispers, finger poised and his string of energy. He sets in sights a target, calculates all of Yamamoto’s next ten moves to ensure he’s out of the way and fires.

Its been a long time since he’s been innocent. A hard concept for him to even comprehend when you take into account that he was raised int the mafia. Upon meeting Tsuna it was like getting a bit of that back. Just a bit. But for Tsuna. For the famiglia that had finally _accepted_ him, quirks and high-trigger temper and all, and he would give it all back.

He’d paint the streets _red_ for his boss.

He’d do a hell of a lot more for his fucking _brother._


End file.
